


What You Wanted

by Carbynn



Series: No Context [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Consensual Non-Consent, Crossed Boundaries, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry That I'm Like This, Lots of Crying, Misery, Not Safewording When Safewords Should Be Used, Other, Unsafe Roleplay, extreme roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 06:22:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13805298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carbynn/pseuds/Carbynn
Summary: Ed knows what Roy means to do as soon as he meets their eyes across the bedroom.





	What You Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Another installment of the NB Roy AU. This incarnation of Roy and Ed are the kinkiest fucks alive and have tried everything you can imagine in the bedroom. Sometimes it doesn't always go well. This scene sparks months and months of miserable angst. Be glad that this is all that's written about it. Check the notes at the end for some great art my amazing BF did for this fic if you haven't broken your computer and reported me by then.

Ed knows what Roy means to do as soon as he meets their eyes across the bedroom.

A thrill sparks through him and he makes to bolt for the door but Roy lunges for him as he passes and catches him around the waist, dragging him down to the floor with something like a painful crash. He narrowly avoids smashing his chin against the floor by twisting himself beneath Roy and wedging his knees under their hips in an attempt to push them off.

Roy leverages their weight against Ed, pushing his knees down but Ed manages to hook his leg around Roy’s hip anyway and flips them hard. He thinks he hears Roy’s head smash against the floor but he’s too gone in the adrenaline to care. He’s scrambling to his feet again, making for the door, but Roy’s managed to turn themself around and catches his automail ankle with their hands.

Ed crashes back to the floor with a yelp and this time his chin hits and he’s shocked that his teeth don’t crack, or he would be shocked if his head wasn’t ringing from the impact. Roy’s on him immediately, pressing him down, and he’s vaguely aware over the roar of his blood pounding through him, that Roy’s fingers are prodding at the place where his automail meets flesh at the hem of his boxer shorts and then they’re digging into the port. The snap reverberates through his body, carried through his nerve endings by the shock of the realization that Roy’s just disconnected the leg from his body.

He doesn’t breathe for a second. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Roy, he trusts them with his entire fucking life and will until the day he dies, but it’s unexpected and suddenly he feels fragile and helpless. He’s been tied up and drugged and beaten nearly senseless in the course of their love play but he’s never felt so disadvantaged.

Roy’s hands don’t stop there, and Ed knows they won’t stop unless he tells them to. Roy hasn’t hesitated in months, will probably never hesitate again, and it’s part of what makes their play so fucking _good_ , part of what makes them good together. He can feel the evidence of Roy’s arousal pressing against his ass as those hands slide up his bare back, brushing against the edge of his automail shoulder, and Ed wouldn’t dream of safewording Roy when they’re so obviously enjoying this. He knows Roy won’t hurt him, and that has to be enough for now.

It feels like it’s been hours but in reality it’s only been seconds since Roy pinned him to the floor and it hasn’t even been seconds since his leg was lifted off and away and now his arm is following it.

“I’ve never seen you so helpless, Fullmetal,” Roy growls in his ear, and even though he doesn’t have a dream of fighting them off, Ed snarls and thrashes beneath them.

“Get the fuck off of me you sick fucking bastard, don’t you goddamn touch me!” Ed’s trying to throw his weight, miniscule as it is with two missing body parts, against Roy’s chest to push them away, to unbalance them somehow and then… what? Crawl away like a fucking limbless worm?

All at once the fight floods out of him and he can feel Roy’s triumphant smirk on the back of his neck. “Now now, you don’t mean that, do you Fullmetal? I know you want it.”

Roy’s arms curl under him and Ed’s being lifted from the floor like a sack of fucking flour. He twists in Roy’s hold, fighting again, until he’s thrown roughly onto the mattress facedown and Roy’s dragging his boxer shorts down and off until Ed’s completely bare.

Even in the face of his discomfort, Ed’s body responds to the feel of Roy’s hands against his naked ass as he writhes beneath them, trying to roll away. He throws a kick with his remaining leg, just barely missing Roy’s shoulder. They grab his leg and pin it back to the bed with their knee and Ed’s helpless again because Roy’s just out of arm’s reach but that doesn’t stop him from twisting his spine to an uncomfortably sharp angle in an attempt to land a blow. Roy catches his wrist and pins it as easily.

“This will go much more easily for you if you stop fighting.”

“Fuck you.”

Ed can hear the smirk in the bastard’s voice. “Oh, don’t worry, you will.”

Ed’s heart is in his throat as Roy reaches across him for the lube and he’s getting a little light-headed. He’s completely powerless, and any arousal that had eked in through the flood of desperation an adrenaline completely evaporates the second one of Roy’s slick fingers presses into him without preamble.

It isn’t any fun when he can’t fight back, when he’s powerless, and even Roy’s fingers scraping against his prostate, though it pulls a cry from his throat, doesn’t help to rekindle his desire. The burning stretch of the preparation, just borderlining ‘not enough,’ the way Roy likes it when they do it this way, the way Ed generally likes it, too, was the only thing grounding him, the only thing keeping him in his skin.

Roy’s arousal is pressing against his hip, wet and hard, and they draw away to slick it in their hand. The lack of weight on his back spurs Ed into action. He doesn’t have a plan, doesn’t even really realize he’s moving until he’s propelling himself across the bed and he just manages to reach the edge of it when Roy’s snarling and making a vicious grab for him. Ed ducks their hand but loses his tenuous balance, upset by his lack of automail, and slides over the edge of the bed with a startled yelp and crashes to the floor. The automail port on his thigh hits the hardwood with a vicious bang and he’ll probably be alchemizing the dents out of it later but he’s not concerned with that now, nor is he concerned with the tang of blood on his tongue from a busted lip where his face hit the floor. He doesn’t think his nose is broken but he doesn’t think he would care if it were, not now, not when all he can do, all he can think is that he has to _get away._

He barely manages to make it a foot across the floor before Roy’s on him again, propelling themself out of bed and landing directly on Ed’s back. They seize a handful of Ed’s hair and pull on it hard enough to bring tears to his eyes and he’s resisting hard enough that when they let go, his face slams into the floor again with more force than the fall had caused and the split in his lip widens under the cut of his teeth against it and he’s blinking away both blood and stars from a gash that’s opened on his eyebrow from the scrape of his skin against the wood.

The hand is in his hair again, angling his head back as Roy straddles Ed’s ass and begins pressing themself in with their other hand and it _hurts._ Roy’s legs on either side of his thighs (or what’s left of them,) keep him from spreading his legs to ease his way, and he doesn’t have the leverage with one leg to rise up and  arch his back.

He’s shaking his head under Roy’s hand and he’s begging him to stop even as each screamed word rips the tear on his lip wider, but the sting is nothing compared to the sting of the stretch of Roy’s cock inside of him. Roy’s hand tightens in his hair, stilling his head as they lean down to breathe hotly into his ear.

“If you wanted this to be comfortable, you shouldn’t have allowed yourself to end up on the floor,” they purr, and as much as Ed wants it to stop, as much as he wants to curl up in Roy’s arms and try to remember that they love him, he can’t find it in himself to say the word, not when Roy is so clearly enjoying it. He can’t bring himself to deny Roy anything. 

It doesn’t stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks as Roy begins to roughly thrust into him, moaning against the back of his neck, yanking at his hair, sliding a hand around to cup his chin from behind and force two fingers into his mouth, and Ed can’t do anything. He can’t push back, can’t brace himself to arch to relieve the painful pressure in his ass without his leg and his arm, can barely even breathe between Roy’s fingers and the agonized, hiccuping sobs that tear from his throat. This isn’t a game anymore, isn’t an act, but Ed still can’t bring himself to stop it.

“Please,” Ed sobs as soon as Roy’s fingers slip from between his lips, the words instinctive at this point even though the rational part of him knows that they aren’t the words he needs to say to end this but he refuses to let those come, refuses to let himself deprive Roy of anything they want. “P-please, please s-s-stop, I can’t, I c-can’t… you have to s-stop.”

“I think you’ll find, Fullmetal, that I don’t have to do anything.” Roy pulls out and Ed’s body reacts in immediate relief but he knows it isn’t over, knows they’ve barely even begun.

Roy seizes Ed by the hips and flips him hard and his head cracks against the floor as he comes to rest on his back. He’s blinking away stars again, trembling, trying to focus on Roy’s face while at the same time desperately trying to look anywhere but into their eyes. He can’t face them, not right now, not like this. He squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the burning sting of the blood that’s steadily dripping from the cut on his forehead, and braces himself for more.

More never comes.

“Edward.” Roy’s voice is low, quiet and horrified, and the gentle brush of fingertips against his cheek startles him so violently that he smashes his head again. “Ed, sweetheart, look at me.”

Ed can’t do anything. He’s frozen with the quiet fear that beats through his body, frozen save for the shuddering tremors that tear through him, and he can’t even force himself to open his eyes. The only thing left to him is ugly, wrenching sobs that radiate from his core.

“Ed, _please_.” Roy’s desperate, and Ed can feel the warmth of their hands hovering over his skin and the idea of being touched by them makes him vaguely nauseous and somewhere in the back of his mind he knows just how bad of a sign that is.

  
Roy’s hands come up to cup his face and Ed’s reaction is instinctive and immediate. He jerks away from Roy and scrambles to put space between them.

“D-don’t, don’t fucking touch me!” Ed’s snarl is more sob than it is violence. He sits up as well as he can and slides against the floor until his back hits the wall. All he wants to do is curl in on himself and _hide_ but he can’t even do that without his limbs. He tries anyway, dragging his flesh knee to his chest and burying his face in it.

Nothing happens for a long moment and Ed can hear a bit of shuffling, the sink being turned on in the bathroom, and then suddenly he’s covered in the heavy warmth of their comforter and Roy’s pulling him into their arms.

Ed tries to struggle, to resist, but the last dregs of energy have been wrung out of him and he doesn’t have the strength anymore, doesn’t have enough left in him to do it.

A wet cloth guided by a gentle hand begins working over his face, clearing the blood, soothing the heat of his skin.

“I’m sorry.” Roy’s voice is rough with the hard edge of tears they’re trying to suppress. “I’m so sorry, I… why didn’t you… the _safeword_ , Ed!”

The desperation in their voice rockets their tone into something that’s almost a shout and the terrified whine tears from Ed’s lips before he can think to suppress it. “Y-y-you,” he attempts. His teeth are chattering. “You l-liked it. W-were enjoying it. Enjoying m-m-me. It’s what you wanted.”

There’s a beat of silence and then the cloth is gone and Roy’s hooking a hand under Ed’s chin and tilting his face up. “Ed, please, look at me. Please.”

The raw desperation in Roy’s voice is enough to reach through the haze and Ed opens his eyes, struggling to stay focused on their face. Their eyes rimmed with red and rimmed with worry, and Ed doesn’t think he’s ever seen them look as miserable as they look now.

“I apologize,” they began, their tone wavering as they spoke, “for everything I have ever done to imply that my desires take precedence over your safety and comfort.” Their hand is shaking on Ed’s chin and a few of the tears they’ve been swallowing down escape and track down their cheek. “I love you with my life, Edward, with everything in me. I’d rather die than see you hurt because of me.”

Ed shakes his head. This is going all wrong. Roy isn’t supposed to blame themself for this. “It’s not your f-fault. I should have said the word but I d-didn’t want to take anything away from you.”

“You wouldn’t. God, Ed, you _wouldn’t._ This isn’t what I wanted, this isn’t what I _ever_ want. That’s not why we do this. You _know_ that.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Ed’s ugly sobs have died down and turned to hard steel in his chest. “D-doesn’t.”

“It _does_ ,” Roy says firmly, but their tone is brittle, like they’re going to break at any second. “Why in god’s name do you think it wouldn’t?”

Ed can’t even explain it. He chokes on another sob and tries to shrink down into the comforter to shield himself from Roy. There isn’t any logic left that can reach through to the animal part of his brain and it dawns on him with a sort of creeping horror that he’s afraid of Roy. It isn’t conscious, it isn’t rational, but his body is reacting to the rough treatment the only way it knows how.

Roy seems to notice it the same time Ed does and they’re _crushed._ Ed can’t find the words to comfort them, doesn’t know how to tell them that it’s not _him_ that’s afraid, that it’s just stupid fucking instinct and nothing about how Ed feels about them has changed, but his throat is tight and he’s still crying and there isn’t anything he can do to force the words. Instead he clings to Roy through the blanket, burying his face in the curve of their neck even though the skin-to-skin contact burns him and makes his skin prick uncomfortably.

After a few long minutes of breathing in the familiar, warm scent of Roy’s skin, he begins to calm down. He begins to remember what it feels like to be loved by Roy Mustang instead of used by them.

He still isn’t quite right, probably isn’t going to be right for a long time, but he brushes half-desperate kisses against Roy’s skin, staining it with the blood that’s still steady leaking from his busted lip. “L-love you, please, I love you.”

Carefully, Roy’s hand comes to comb gently through his tangled hair. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I should have known, should have seen before it got this bad.” Their thumb brushes against the back of his neck and Ed’s hair is wet from the tears rolling down Roy’s face. “I can’t understand why you didn’t stop me. Why wouldn’t you stop me, Ed? Why would you let me hurt you?”

“Because I love you, you stupid bastard,” Ed manages to snarl. “You deserve to have everything you want.”

“And what about what you deserve?” Roy demands, tightening their arms around him. “What about what you want?”

“I just want you.” It’s whispered into Roy’s skin and Ed can’t be sure that they even heard him. “That’s all. Just you.”

Roy’s quiet for so long that Ed’s sure they didn’t hear but then they’re gathering Ed up in their arms and standing up with him, cradling him to their chest and walking him back over to the bed. Ed doesn’t even think of struggling and probably couldn’t, anyway.

Roy lays him down and then climbs in next to him, peeling away the comforter and pulling Ed back into their arms, skin-to-skin this time. The urge to pull away almost overwhelms him but he can’t pull out of Roy’s strong hold. It’s too hot, too much, and his body rebels against every slight move Roy makes against him.

“I’m sorry,” they murmur, burying their face in his hair. It’s still wet and their breaths hitch and blow against the strands of it. “But you need this. More than we need to talk, and we _do_ need to talk, sweetheart, but we both need this now.”

He does need it, he knows he does, but it doesn’t stop Ed from shifting and twisting like a mad thing, trying to get away from the touch and the heat and the memory of those hands unclipping his automail and tossing it away like trash.

“I need my arm,” Ed says suddenly, the distraction of the idea causing him to settle a little in Roy’s arms. “And, and my leg. Please, I… please.”

Roy’s fingers slide gently across his ribs, stroking soothingly down his side. “That’s what pushed you over, isn’t it?” Their tone was self-deprecating and desperately, desperately miserable. “I’m so sorry, Edward. I should have known what it would do to you.”

“It doesn’t m-matter.” Ed’s teeth are chattering again and he’s certain it’s not because he’s cold. “Please, just… I need them.”

Roy draws away reluctantly and Ed feels brutally alone. The seconds stretch on indefinitely and Ed curls in on himself to ward off the cold but then Roy’s back and urging Ed to sit up with gentle little nudges that make his chest ache.

Ed’s up and leaning against the headboard and Roy’s staring down at his metal limbs in their hands, suddenly frozen. It isn’t like they haven’t seen Ed without them before, so it must be something else that’s stealing their breath and choking them.

“I shouldn’t have done this,” they manage, barely audible.

“Roy, _please._ ”

Roy doesn’t move, is still staring down at the automail with a growing horror dawning over their features. “It hurts to reattach, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t care, I don’t, I need it back, Roy!” Ed’s panic is growing and he leans forward, reaching for the automail arm with his flesh one.

“I can’t hurt you again, Edward. I can’t.” Roy looks up at him and Ed’s never seen them look so helpless.

Ed can’t remember the last time he was so helpless, either. “You have to. Roy, you have to, I can’t… I _need it back_ , you have to help me put it back!” Roy still isn’t moving and Ed’s panic dissolves into frantic agony. “Roy, _please._ You fucking took it off of me, you have to put it back! You can’t just leave me like this!” Ed thinks he might be crying again as his fingers curl desperately around the automail arm. “Just, just this, I can do the leg, but I can’t… the angle isn’t… Roy, you _have_ to!”

Roy pulls the automail out of Ed’s reach and sets their jaw into steel harder than the arm. “Lay down,” they say, barely above a whisper, and the tension eases in Ed’s chest and he _sobs_ in relief and sinks down on his side.

Roy’s hands are shaking and the automail trembles as it approaches. “Breathe,” they instruct quietly. “I’m sorry.” They count backwards from three and then Ed’s world explodes in pain. He bites back the scream that threatens to tear loose as the nerves reconnect, muffling it with the back of his flesh hand.

He’s lost in pain for so long that he doesn’t notice Roy’s hands sliding through his hair, doesn’t notice the quiet, reassuring murmurs and the tears that fall from Roy’s eyes and slide across his skin until he surfaces. Roy, it seems, has been apologizing the entire time, and Ed’s automail has adjusted itself enough that he can reach for him with just the smallest twinge of pain.

“Thank you,” he manages to choke out, brushing his metal fingers against Roy’s wet cheek. “Can, can you pass me my leg?”

Ed doesn’t feel Roy’s forehead crease under his metal fingers but the lines stand out on their pale skin as clear as day. “I think you ought to wait, sweetheart.”

“I can’t. C-can’t wait, I need it.”

Just as Ed thinks Roy will withhold it and the panic creeps back in, Roy picks up his leg and slides in behind Ed and pulls him to their chest, reaching around him to situate the leg. “Ready?”

“You don’t have to, I can do it,” Ed says immediately.

“I fucking took it off of you,” Roy says, echoing Ed’s words from earlier. “I can put it back.”

They count down again and the pain is so much worse this time with his nerves still raw from the reconnection of his shoulder and Ed can’t bite back the scream this time. His back arches against the pain and the back of his head hits Roy’s shoulder as his body contracts with it it. Roy’s arms are around his waist and they’re murmuring quiet reassurances against the shell of his ear.

Ed’s panting by the time the pain fades and he’s so weak that if it weren’t for the arms around his waist, he’d have tipped over against the mattress.

Roy continues whispering quiet apologies as they move Ed back down on the bed and curl around him, stroking over the place where the automail arm meets his shoulder. The movement makes Ed tense, but Roy makes no move for the connector this time.

They press gentle kisses to Ed’s forehead, stroke fingers through his hair, whisper endearments into the top of his head. It’s proper aftercare, but Ed doesn’t feel like he deserves it. He broke out of the scene, ruined Roy’s good time, and no matter how badly Roy feels about it, all of this is Ed’s fault. If he’d just been stronger, if he’d just been _better_ , then none of this ever would have happened.

Roy is right, though, they both need this now. There will be time for talk later, time for more tears, and maybe, just maybe, they’ll be able to bounce back, but Ed isn’t sure.

Wrung out, overwhelmed, and exhausted, he falls asleep several minutes later with the idea locked in his head that he’s managed to ruin everything.

He deserves every second of the quiet nightmares that follow.

**Author's Note:**

> [As promised, the gorgeous, miserable art.](https://edoaru.tumblr.com/post/170513923199/i-love-it-when-ed-suffers)


End file.
